I faced my fear

I faced my fear of getting on the scale again. I had a rough guesstimate of what I might weigh and frankly, I really didn't want to know any different. I wanted to just let my clothes tell me how I was doing.

Yeah, pretty much denial people.

I was scared. I didn't want to weigh. Heck who does. I didn't want that little 3 digit number to dictate to me how to feel. Oh sure we can all say that the number doesn't matter, you can change it, your clothes tell you the "real" progress. All of which is very true but sometimes, sometimes, you just have to face that bastard scale and look at just exactly approximately where you are at.

It was a hot summer day... The wind blew through the trees on the quiet street. There was the whistle of a showdown in the air.... I stood on one side of the silent bathroom. The bastard scale loomed on the other....

Ok ok so this isn't an old western but I have to admit there have been times where I have wanted to shoot that damn thing as if it were.

Ok so anyway, I'm getting so off track here. I don't have a working scale (and by not working I mean that this scale loves me. It tells me the weight I want to see and not the weight I really am. Isn't that a nice scale?) so I weigh in at the MIL's house. We went over there after we finished eating. At a restaurant. Why, why, why I chose to do this, I don't know but I knew it was now or never (never really meaning next Sunday when we go back to the MIL's house). I decided that I would automaticallyl take 5 lbs. off because I know from past experiance that you can see a 5 lb. gain on the scale after eating.

So I had this one number in my head and I hoped that I would be no more than 5 lbs over it. In reality I had a feeling I had kicked myself up into the next bracket of 100's. I was prepared (so I thought) for that. Turns out that I was 1 lb. less than what I thought I was. I then took my jeans off. Down 2.5 lbs! -5 lbs. that I said I'd take off anyway and it left me with a number of 9 lbs lighter than I thought I might be in the first place (based on what I weighed at time of surgery). So yeah, I'm happy. I know it isn't an "exact" number but you know what? I don't reallly give a care. It's close and it motivates me at the moment in a happy way so I'm just going to take that.

Anyone who wants to rain on my parade can email: me@Icouldcareless.com, and don't hold your breath for a response. Whatever works to get me motivated in the right direction is right the right thing for me right now. Right? Right.

Well, the Wee One is crying and I haven't even been to sleep yet. Fun, fun.